


Choreographers' Notes

by Mosca



Category: Dancing with the Stars (US) RPF, Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Bondage, Cock Rings, Dom/sub, F/M, Footnotes, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:45:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2806478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mosca/pseuds/Mosca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A scene, and behind the scenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choreographers' Notes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mistresscurvy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistresscurvy/gifts).



> Many thanks to my spectacular beta reader and my late-night cheerleader.

She has tied him to his bed.

She contemplates leaving the room. She wonders how long he will take to lose his cool and beg her to come back. "Meryl? Mer? How long you gonna leave me like this? All night? Come on, it isn't funny anymore." But she read when she was learning how to tie knots that it isn't safe to leave a guy alone when you've splayed him out like a lopsided star with each limb bound to its own bedpost. She is all about safety, and about trusting books.

She bought an actual book. She thought about looking it up on the internet, but this one time, at Champs Camp,[1] someone commanded an unprepared and possibly drunk Johnny Weir to advise future Olympians, and he said, "Never believe anything you read about sex on the internet." His advice in other matters being consistently on the nose, she purchased a manual, then hid it in a tampon box so Maks would never find out the depths of her ignorance. 

There is nowhere to sit in Maks's bedroom but the bed, so she sits with her legs dangling over the side, framed in the V of his arm and hip, reading a book. Not _the_ book, but the one she carries in her purse [2] in case she has to wait in line at the bank or ice a turned ankle at the rink.

She's naked. She took her clothes off before she tied him up. She can feel his gaze like a sunbeam on the small of her back. She wants him to kiss her there, where her butt meets her back. She wants to lie face down and give him permission to fuck her. Waiting will make her want it that much more.

She watches him out of the corner of her eye. His calm disturbs her; he is falling asleep, or he is planning a creative rebellion. She could elbow him in the ribs and command him to stay awake, but hurting him doesn't do much for her. An athlete and a dancer, they both have high thresholds of pain. Any injury she could inflict would be either a tickle he'd shrug off or a wound severe enough to cause real harm.

She puts down her book and goes for his cock instead. She could ride that thing all night [3], and later, she will. She spits in her palm and plays with his soft cock. He rouses; he grins; he moans. "All this for a hand job?" he sputters. She hops down from the bed, gets a cock ring [4] out of her coat pocket, and rolls it onto him, tugging his balls through gently.

“You already tied up the rest of me,” Maks pouts. “You gonna tie that up too?”

“I’m keeping it warm until I’m ready for it.” She slinks up the bed and kneels across him, ankles caressing his ribs, nipples dangling over his lips. “Until you _need_ it.”

Maks squirms, tugging at his restraints. “I need it now.”

“You don’t know what you need, little boy.” Meryl shifts back onto her calves and leans down to kiss his nose. “And if you did, you wouldn’t know how to ask.” [5]

“You don’t know either. You can’t read my mind,” he says. [6]

“I can do better,” Meryl says. “I can read your body.” She traces her fingers lightly over his chest and shoulders, deciding what to do next. Improvisation has never been her strongest suit. The challenge is what turns her on; she’s never enjoyed anything that came easy. She’s an Olympic champion with poor depth perception, a Dean’s List student with dyslexia, a domme with a soft voice and a shy nature.

Meryl cups her breasts in her hands and squeezes her nipples. She makes him watch. [7] She says, “Do you want me to give you a turn?”

Well-trained, he hesitates before saying, “Yes, please.”

She crawls across him, digging in her knees and palms, creating the illusion that he is bearing her weight. She stops with her pussy above his mouth and sinks down so her labia brush his lips. He thrusts his tongue a few times, then says, “I could do so much more if you gave me back my hands.”

“Next thing I know, you’ll be asking for your cock back,” she says.

“That, too.”

Listen.” She grinds down, making him taste her. “If you make me come, maybe I’ll untie you.”

“And maybe you won’t?”

“Depends on how good you are,” she says.

He’s flicking his tongue, reaching the soft flesh just in front of her vagina. She lets him stay there, loving the tickle and clench of pleasure that runs up her hips. When she’s ready – a little past ready – she shifts to press her clit against his tongue. She grinds down. She’s doing most of the work, but she doesn’t mind. She’s all he can taste, smell, and see. Maybe she’s lying when she says she doesn’t need to be the center of attention. Maybe she’s a diva, after all.

The warm tingle of _getting close_ gathers in her clit. She could hold back, distract herself, make him work harder. But she wants it now. She grabs Maks’s hair and tugs his face upward, into her. He’s immobile, consumed in her. She comes, and she keeps coming.

She peels into a backbend, freeing him from her hands and her thighs. He breathes in deeply, desperately, pushing her hips up with the force of his lungs. True to her word, she gets up and unties his feet. [8] She checks his cock, which is straining against the ring, skin tight and veins thick. For a moment, she sits back to admire it. [9]

“What about my hands?” Maks says.

“What do you need those for? To jerk off?” [10]

“To hold you,” he says, more sleazy than romantic, playing at heartlessness. He means the words but not his tone of voice. 

“I don’t want you to hold me,” she says. “I want you to lie there while I ride you.”

“So let my cock free, at least,” he says.

“If I do, will you come right away?” [11]

“Do you want me to come right away?” He is especially good at this game tonight.

“I’ll leave it on,” she says. “So you can feel me.” 

“Not for too long?”

“For just long enough,” she says.

She guides his cock inside her. [12] Being fucked right after she’s come is her favorite time, because she’s relaxed all over, no pressure to please anyone but him. She squeezes around him, makes him sigh and writhe, gets him going so furiously that she wonders if he’s forgotten about the ring. She hasn’t, and she climbs off of him to remove it carefully. She thinks he might come in her hand. But he waits until he’s inside her again to yell, and tell her she’s beautiful, and jerk hard before he drops back, prone.

She unties his hands and kisses his scarlet wrists. He murmurs something about birds. She curls into his arms, the little spoon. From above, or with their clothes on, they seem almost ordinary.

* * *

**Notes**

[1] As all stories about Champs Camp must be introduced; it took Meryl over a year to realize that the reference was to American Pie. [«]

[2] Cobble, Dorothy Sue, et. al. _Feminism Unfinished: A Short, Surprising History of American Women's Movements._ New York: Norton, 2014. [«]

[3] God bless Marina's insistence on stamina drills. As the rink brown-noser, Meryl prided herself on never complaining about sprint ladders. She believed they'd be useful someday, although she couldn't have imagined this. [«]

[4] She purchased the cock ring on the internet. It arrived in an unmarked white bubble envelope. She opened the package while standing at her mailbox and tore the toy out of its plastic packaging. Squeezing the circle of black silicone between her thumb and forefinger, she wondered whether such a simple object could accomplish its advertised task. It does – it always does. [«]

[5] He knows perfectly well. A few weeks after she started disciplining him, he learned to obey without complaint, and the game lost its luster. The morning after a bad night, clothed in her kitchen, he watched her give a bowl of eggs the beating she hadn’t given him, and he asked if there was something on her mind. She almost tried to convince him that everything was fine, but there wasn’t a chance he’d accept that answer. “You’re more fun when you sass me,” she said. “When you’re sarcastic and bratty. When you whine and make me want to smack your butt harder.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “You are such a pain in my ass.” He lifted the bowl out of her hand and teased her with it, just out of reach. “Is that more like it?” [«]

[6] Notwithstanding the convictions of some of their _Dancing with the Stars_ fans, this can be verified. [«]

[7] During _DWTS_ rehearsals, before they were dating but after she’d begun wanting to, Meryl admitted to Maks that she wished she had curves. “Boobs and a butt like Marilyn Monroe.” 

“I think you’re beautiful,” he said. “Like a little bird.”

“Birds are cute,” Meryl said. “Not sexy.”

He grabbed her hips from behind, more intimate than either of them was ready for. “It depends on how hard the little bird is shaking her tail feathers.” [«]

[8] Late in their _DWTS_ season, Meryl had a mishap in rehearsal: she tripped over Maks’s feet and banged her toe hard into the dance floor. She cracked her toenail and drew a little blood, so the show’s medical staff told her to cool it for an hour. She sat irritably, not feeling the pain, ready to dance. “What can I do to make you smile, little bird?” Maks said.

“A latte and a foot rub,” she said.

“What am I, your bitch?”

“Not yet,” she said, “but you could be.” 

If she’d been teasing her other male friends, Charlie or Jeremy or Ryan, they would have laughed it off. But with Maks, there was sometimes a language barrier, and more often an insistence on taking her seriously. “You’re gonna make me?”

“I’m going to make you _love_ it.”

He rubbed her foot for a few minutes, smirking at her, waiting for permission to stop. She realized he would keep going forever, and the power surged delight in her. She fan-kicked her foot out of his grasp and leaned down to kiss him for the first time. [«]

[9] She hears a thud and panics for a moment, but it’s just her book falling on the floor. [«]

[10] Sometimes Meryl worries that she is being too mean. But when her words cut him, he locks his vibrant eyes with hers, trusting and not angry. He is an outlet for the feelings that she bottles up for television, a safe place. _A safe place_ \- his words first, for her. “You are a safe place for me to shed my skin,” he told her one morning, coming up behind her as she brushed her teeth, framing the two of them in the mirror as he kissed the top of her head. [«]

[11] Maks hasn’t said it in so many words, but she’s almost certain he’s insecure about coming too quickly, that it’s held him back with other lovers in the past. And if there’s one thing she’s sure he loves, it’s anticipation, the process of sex. He’s sleepy after he comes, almost never in the mood for another round. It must be disappointing, being built that way. By letting her control him, he controls himself.

That’s the scholarly analysis, at least. The way he’d put it is, they’re both having fun, and they’re in love. She wishes she could think like he does. [«]

[12] Skills she never imagined she’d master:

  * Putting a condom on while a cock ring is already in place.
  * Removing a cock ring without taking off the condom.
  * Realizing that both of the above are not only possible, but necessary.



[«]   



End file.
